


Aisling

by titC



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: "Let's Wing It!" Fic Exchange, Douche’s honor, Etymology, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Linda stealth-therapies unsuspecting victims, Lucifer and Trixie bonding and binding, Maze/Linda, Pimon and Gartfunkel, Samael feels, Trixie is a miracle, another cameo from red-clothed people no one ever expects, brief cameo from gospel’s most famous, check the end notes, fam feels, good devil and bad angels, meaningful bird, mwahaha I punned, so much whump, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:03:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Summary: Job 38:7 (Or who laid its [the earth’s] cornerstone) when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.A gift to ElenaCee from her beautiful prompt, written for the “Let’s Wing It!” Fic Exchange. Fate, life, death, love and Lucifer whumped… the usual :-)





	Aisling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElenaCee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaCee/gifts).



> Notes: a huge thank you to Antarctic Echoes, who reread this and pointed out what needed polishing, because this fic really fought me. Echoes helped tame it ♥ Elena, I hope you’ll like it; even if it may not be what you had in mind!  
> Check the End Notes for trigger warnings if you need to.  
> Here is ElenaCee's [prompt](http://elenacalderas.tumblr.com/post/161658225107/credit-elenacee)
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> 08/12/2017: a [gorgeous edit](https://mourning-night.tumblr.com/post/168330596171/aisling-by-titconao3-ok-this-scene-from) by Mourning Night! OMG, it's _beautiful_ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Discovering the truth about her father’s death, finding the real culprit, arresting him… she was drained. Chloe didn’t really want to admit it, but having Lucifer sleep here had helped, too. Well, she suspected he hadn’t slept and instead had chain-smoked outside, maybe played on his phone, read her books – who knew, with him? – because there was not one crease in his clothes, not a hair of place. She knew how fastidious he was about his appearance. And amazingly enough, he didn’t have bags under red, blood-shot eyes like any normal sleep-deprived person. Or maybe he’d commandeered Maze’s bed – after all, locked doors had never seemed to stop him before.

Shuffling down the stairs, she found him inspecting her cupboards and making a moue.

“Detective!” As often when he said her title or saw her, his face lit up. The smile on his face froze when Trixie cannonballed into his legs, of course; but his discomfort was also a great thing to finish waking up to.

“Morning, Lucifer.” She bent to kiss her daughter’s head. “Hey, monkey. What about Hawaiian sandwiches this morning, uh? What do you say?”

Her little girl’s face broke into a wide smile and she nodded enthusiastically. Chloe started rooting through the fridge to gather what she needed while Lucifer was pestering her with questions about what she was doing and could she add such or such spice and did she make them often and what about replacing this with that, in true Lucifer fashion.

There was a little squeaky noise outside, and at her mother’s nod Trixie opened the door to investigate.

Mommy! It’s a bird!”

“A bird?”

“I think it’s hurt.”

She dropped the bread and all three gathered around the injured animal. It was a white bird with black-tipped wings, one of which hung at an unnatural angle. “You’re right, Trix. Looks like its wing is broken.”

“Can we help it?” The bird was trying to move away from them, chirping – it was probably terrified.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should take it to a vet, but… it’s probably going to be expensive.”

“No need.”

“What?”

“The right humerus is broken.” Gently, more gently than she’d have believed he could be when they’d first met, he picked up the bird and soothed it, touched it delicately to check the bones and joints. The bird calmed down as soon as he stroked it, soft and careful. “Hm, and one foot looks sprained. Find me some bandages and I’ll wrap it, problem solved.”

Trix’s eyes were looking at him like he was her personal hero. “Are you a vet?”

“A vet? Oh, no. But I know about… wings.” His lips thinned for an instant, and she remembered huge white wings at an auction – fake ones, apparently. She remembered he’d said he’d burned the real ones (whatever that meant) after all the fuss he’d made about finding them. That they’d been _his_ , and that he’d had Maze sever them from his body. Those scars…

Chloe sent her daughter for their first aid kit, and here and there on the swinging chair outside Lucifer Morningstar, club owner, (wo)manizer, drug addict and general pain in the ass took long minutes to show her little girl how to check a bird for fractures, how to realign the bones by gently repositioning the wing in its proper place, how to wrap the injured limb tight enough it wouldn’t move, but not too tight the bird wouldn’t breathe properly. And all the while, the bird didn’t protest and let them manipulate it. It looked almost asleep on his lap, and from time to time he’d hum a low tune that made the bird’s head droop even lower.

For the first time, too, Lucifer was interacting with Trixie without sending Chloe terrified save-me-from-your-small-human looks. For the first time, she could see a side of him she hadn’t known existed, patient and quiet, almost mellow; at ease around her daughter. Maybe it was for the benefit of the bird, but… He wasn’t talking to her like most adults talked to children, but like a person to another person; encouraging her to slowly repeat his gestures on the hale wing and telling her about hollow bones and the role and name of different feathers and, of course, a little bit about how birds came from dinosaurs, which were Trixie’s latest passion. He’d noticed. He’d _remembered_. Chloe’s heart suddenly felt too big for her chest, and she went back inside to her breakfast preparations. The last few days had left her emotions too close to the surface, and she didn’t want either of them to witness her weakness.

After that, there was a bit of a hunt for a shoe box and what to put in it to make a proper birdie bed, and then considerations on appropriate food; and finally Lucifer declared he’d take the bird back to his penthouse because he remembered Maze hated birds (talons and droppings were hell on leather) and he decided to save the bird from a stabby death. Trixie negotiated visiting hours, and he looked down his nose at her when she demanded he come pick her up in his car – his _cool_ car. He seemed somewhat mollified at her appreciation of his beloved Corvette, and let her drag him to the bathroom to wash their hands.

Hopefully these two wouldn’t start playing with soap or flood the tiles.

 

Chloe often wondered if she could have made it through the last few months without, well. Without her little monkey, without Maze being actually helpful (well, not with chores, but who would have thought she’d be such a good sitter?) or without their semi-regular tribes outing. Ella’s cheerfulness at work, Maze’s outrageousness, Linda’s calm demeanor right until she dropped an F-bomb… they helped.

Dan did, too. He was there at the hospital, he was there to plan for Trixie when she thought she was dying, he was there to take her home from the hospital and help her around the house when Maze couldn’t; he was there to offer support and lend her an ear when she was worried about Lucifer and he was just… there. And even after Lucifer came back, he managed to find balance between being a friend to her and not shut him off entirely when he saw she still wanted him in her life, whatever he thought about her choice. She owed him, she owed him a lot.

“I’m telling you, Chloe, even before the Candy thing he was hiding a lot.”

“I know.” It had never mattered before, not really; she thought. “But he still gets results, however he does it.”

“It pains me to say this, but you’re the only one who can get them out of him.” Dan picked up a pen on her desk and started twirling it. “Not that he’d work with anyone else. He’s still fixated on you.”

“Hmm.” She looked outside. A mostly-white bird was watching them from the window sill.

Dan went on, oblivious. “Seriously, though. I’d really like to start digging, it’s all just too… abnormal. Like, I don’t know how he did it, getting that formula from a dead man; but he did get it. He even wrote it down from memory and let me tell you, it looked pretty complex. I don’t know if he’s a secret biochemist or a magician or what, but if you insist on spending that much time with him and he’s around Trixie…”

“So what, are you asking me if you can?”

“I guess I am.”

“Aren’t you afraid of what you might find out?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, like maybe the whole devil shtick is true?” She poked his thigh with her own pen.

“Ow! Come on, Chloe, you don’t believe that.”

“Lucifer is Lucifer, I guess. I mean, yeah, do your thing; someone probably should. I don’t think… well, I don’t know what to think anymore. I used to believe he’d never hurt me or Trix, but since Vegas, well.”

“I hate saying this but yeah, he wouldn’t, latest stupid shit aside. Guy’s still hung up on you.”

He was, she knew he was. Heck, even Candy herself had said he’d only talked about their work, about her. She hadn’t even seemed jealous, which, well. Was she that stupid she didn’t realize she would have to fight for his attention, or was she not really… no. No, that way led mad speculation and more heartbreak. _Just friends_ , he’d said. That she could do. Probably. With time.

She pushed Dan off her desk with a little headshake and sent him to the station fridge, because right now she could do with both her sandwich and the daily answer to the perennial question of Dan’s pudding – still in the fridge, or once again stolen from its rightful owner?

 

Trixie’s world was not exactly easy to live in or always nice, but it was hers and there were things she would always be sure of: that her parents loved her, how chocolate cake was the best food ever, that she’d be president of Mars one day (Maze had promised they’d find a way to make it happen), that she was an only child.

And that was why discovering a particular paper while looking for her school file had left her feeling… strange. Unsure, suddenly. She wasn’t really, really scared like when she’d been kidnapped or when her mommy had been in danger, but still. It was like the universe was tilted; like up was a bit to the left too now and like she had to be careful when walking because the floor was uneven.

Somehow, she knew she shouldn’t ask her mom or dad about it. It hadn’t been exactly hidden, but she wasn’t supposed to look through these papers. She’d just wanted to know what her teachers thought and told her parents away from her ears, and she hadn’t expected… that. She quickly snapped a picture and stuffed everything back the way it was, more or less, before her mom got out of the shower. There was one person she thought she could ask, and once at school, she would.

Besides, she knew that he wouldn’t go back on their deal, and since she couldn’t reach the pedals of his car yet and the driving lesson had been cut short, this was a good replacement.

 

“So, child, what kind of emergency is there that you’d drag me away from your mother?”

He was leaning against his really cool car smoking a cigarette. She wrinkled her nose but still threw her arms around his waist, smell or not. This time, however, it wasn’t so much to make him cringe, but because she… wanted to? Even if he cringed. At least that was familiar and comforting, in its own way. It didn’t change. “Hello, Lucifer,” she mumbled with her face squashed in his shirt.

“Yes, yes, hello.” His hand patted her head rather awkwardly, but he didn’t try to push her away. “You seem upset. More bullies I need to scare away for you?” She shook her head. “I had to tell your mother I’d promised to take you to the pier rides so she’d let me come on my own as you asked. What is it?”

“Can I just have ice-cream instead?”

“Will you tell me what ails you then?” She nodded. “Fine. Hop in, then. We’re going to get ice-cream, and you’re going to spill.”

 

She felt better after the treat. Watching Lucifer warily edge away from people who tried to approach him fawning over what a good daddy he was and hearing the funny words he used – _they’re not funny, they’re British_ , her mom had explained; but Trixie thought they were funny anyway – always cheered her up. But now, he was looking expectantly at her, and she couldn’t wait any longer. She knew he had a weird family himself, and she’d always remembered feeling like he got it, got _her_ , on the first day they met, when her parents had started arguing in front of her again. She trusted him.

“I think I have a big sister,” she started. His eyebrows rose up, and she slid her phone to him. “I found this in mommy’s files.”

“Hm.” He took it up and peered at it for a while, his lips thinning. “What do you understand from that?”

“That my mom had a baby before me.”

“And?”

“That the baby died very quickly? Is that normal? Could I have died too? Can I die now?”

He put the phone back on the table. “Everyone can die, even babies; but you’re healthy and no one will let you come to harm.” Trixie knew her mommy and daddy would do anything for her, and Maze too. The thought reassured her a little. “From the dates, your mother was very young then; it was in the year after your grandfather was killed. The baby was premature, and didn’t survive.” He looked down at her. “Premature means they are not ready to be born. They come too early, and they are fragile.”

“Is that why she died?”

“Probably.”

“Why didn’t my mommy tell me about her?”

“She is probably still sad about it.”

“But I could help her.”

He was silent for a while, eyes on the sky outside behind her. “You are blessed with a mother who puts you first, always. Who will do anything for you. You bring her joy. That’s what your name means, by the way.”

“That I bring joy?” He nodded. “What does Aisling mean?”

“It’s pronounced Ash-lin. It means dream, vision.”

“That’s nice too. But it’s also a bit sad.” She looked down into what was left of her ice-cream. “What does your name mean?”

“Nothing of interest. Are you finished? Can I drive you home, now?”

“Can we go see Aisling?”

“Sorry?”

“I want to see my sister.”

“But…”

“I want to give her something.” She rummaged in her bag and extracted two of her prettiest seashells. “I could put them on her grave, right? Like a present?”

He sighed. “Fine.”

 

When she’d gone back into her room to get dressed, Chloe saw the drawer was badly shut. Looking around, she found Trixie’s school file had slipped half under her bed; but what worried her more was what her little monkey had obviously discovered. All the papers were in the wrong order. Trixie knew, and how was she going to talk about Aisling with her?

When Lucifer claimed he wanted to pick her offspring from school because of a deal he owed her, she let it go. She had an idea of what her little girl was trying to do, and if she wanted to talk to him first, then she would. Still, once she’d finished some paperwork, Chloe felt the need for a little visit herself. It had been a long time. Too long.

But they’d beaten her to Aisling’s grave, a tall man and a little girl side by side in front of a tiny, tiny grave with seashells on it. She sat behind a tree and looked at them.

Lucifer was very, very still by her daughter’s side, and both of them were staring at the little plaque. _Aisling Decker,_ _2002_ _._ _When all the morning stars sang together, you came and you went._ Chloe would never forget. “That’s your name, right? Morningstar _?_ ” Trixie asked.

“It’s not my name, here. It’s a… it’s from a book. It means, well.” He paused. “It means your mother felt what happened was unfair.”

Her little monkey mulled that over for a moment. “Should I be sad too?”

He said nothing for a while, and it wasn’t a quiet, peaceful silence; no. It was a heavy, stifling one; and it made her feel like her lungs couldn’t expand anymore. Chloe almost intervened then. She couldn’t have said if it would have been for him or for Trixie. Or herself.

“I lost two brothers,” he finally said. “One was my half-brother. He was much younger than me, and I didn’t really get to know him.”

“Like my sister and me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sad, then?”

He put his hands in his pockets, took them out again. Shrugged. “I’d have liked to know him.”

“So it’s all right if I’m not sad?”

“Of course.” He reached into his jacket and got a cigarette out. It hung between his fingers, unlit. “Your sister and my brother are probably together in heaven now, having chocolate cake and trick-or-treating money out of unsuspecting, naive souls. You’ll meet them, one day.”

They were silent for a while after that, and Chloe had to wipe her cheeks when her little monkey slipped her hand in Lucifer’s. He looked down briefly, surprised and ready to step away; but Trixie glared up at him and squeezed his fingers, and he relented. Her hand almost disappeared in his large one when he finally curled it around hers, and their gaze went back to the little headstone almost lost in the weeds.

“What about your other brother?”

He yanked his hand free and rooted into his trousers. “He is dead too.” He couldn't make his lighter work. Chloe could see the shaking from where she was.

“Did you know him? Are you sad about him?”

“Look, spawn – ”

“Is he in heaven too? Will you see him too when you go to heaven?”

The cigarette was a crumpled mess now, and bits of tobacco drifted away from his fingers in the slight breeze. “We’re leaving. It’s late, your mother will be very angry if you’re not home.”

Chloe made herself even smaller behind the trunk, but then Trixie turned and saw her. She put a little finger over her lips before tugging on his sleeve. “Lucifer?”

“What.” He sounded rough.

“You can cry, you know. It’s okay to cry.”

“I don’t want to – ”

“You’re sad. Mommy says you shouldn’t have to pretend with important people.”

“Well, your mother is very wise but…” His voice trailed off and there, under the rustling and soft chirping of the living things around them, she could hear his breathing, slow and growing more and more irregular. He was trying not to cry. Her baby girl was right.

“When I cry, my mom hugs me and I feel better.”

He was looking away from Trixie, away from everything but the sky. “Yes, well. My mum is not here.”

“But I’m here.” He was almost swaying in the light breeze, as if he were untethered to this earth. When Trixie tugged a little harder on his sleeve he suddenly fell on his knees with a little oof and she threw her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as his hands curled into fists by his sides, scrabbling in the dry earth.

Chloe left them there, going back to her own car as silently as she could and trying to put the memory of Lucifer’s harsh, choked not-sobs into her daughter’s hair out of her mind.

She never managed it.

 

The last few weeks had been, to say the least, unsettling. A poisoning and near death, Lucifer vanishing and reappearing with a Vegas wife (who claimed he loved his work and only talked about Chloe?) then divorcing straight away, seeing him willingly spending time with her daughter… even if he claimed it was for a case, the memory still made her smile. Of course, Trixie finding out about Aisling had awakened memories she tried to keep buried most of the time, but… Lucifer had been there for her little girl too, and she for him. Chloe wasn’t sure how she could explain Aisling to her little monkey – I had drunken sex with a co-star from _Hot Tub High School_ and our condom broke? Oh, and I didn’t realize I was pregnant right away, and I decided to keep it because then dad just died and I needed to feel something? She was eight!

And realizing Lucifer was still spiraling… Seeing him in that psychiatric hospital had scared and reassured her at the same time. Made her realize how disturbed he was, in spite of Linda, and trying hard – so hard. She could tell. But then he went and escaped the hospital where he’d got himself committed, taking another patient with him who… how could he not be sure he was his father? Had he changed that much? How long had it been since he’d last seen him? And how come his father sounded Texan? And… Charlotte Richards? Who was actually his step-mother? And suddenly amnesiac? Nothing made sense, and Linda was in hospital, and everything felt wrong, just plain wrong. Lucifer had been hiding too much, and he claimed it was to protect her, but… how could it be? Charlotte was certainly shady as hell – hah – but still, Chloe was a cop. She could take care of herself.

But… could _he_ take care of himself? He was insanely strong at times, but also an idiot with no sense of self-preservation for both his body and his sanity, what with the quantity of drugs and alcohol he ingested and his frankly heartbreaking thirst for and inability to understand affection. Did he even realize he was hurting people around him as well?

She really, really needed a break. And explanations. Well, explanations first, then a break. She shook her head. The last few _months_ had been hard.

“Mommy?”

“What is it, monkey? You should be in bed.”

“Why are you staring at your phone?”

“Oh, I got a message from Lucifer. He said he was coming, but it’s been two hours.”

“Did something happen to him?”

She really shouldn't let Trix see her own worry. “Nah, he probably just forgot. Go back to bed, baby, it’s late.”

Looked like the explanations would wait.

 

Was he surprised when he woke up in the desert? Was he really surprised?

Well, yes. He certainly hadn’t expected it. On the other hand, daddy dearest sending one of the angelic goons that used to be his siblings to knock him down just as he was about to reveal who he was to Chloe… nope, not surprising.

But the wings? Why the wings? Was it just to mock him? To see if he’d cut them off again? To force him to accept his father’s power over him? No, no – that wasn’t acceptable. He stared up at the cloudless sky, but of course – of course – there was no answer. There never would be.

Lucifer started walking, not really caring about the direction he was going in. He was bound to find some sort of civilization at one point anyway, so. He felt drained, emptied; as if growing a body part – two of them, really – had literally meant taking bone and muscle from somewhere else. His legs were rubbery, his head cottony, his eyesight blurry, and when he wasn’t actively ignoring them he could make his wings flutter but not much more. The hot, dry breeze scouring his skin was probably doing half the work anyway, along with abrading what parts of him were exposed – and what wasn’t?

He’d have to stop soon, he knew. He was stumbling more and more, the sun was beating down on him, and his usual healing abilities had clearly taken a toll. He needed to recover from his sudden re-wingification. Re-angelment? New wingage. Re-featherbishment?

Shade. Shade would be good, yes? Hah. Him, Lucifer Morningstar, defeated by the sun. He half-sat, half-fell at the foot of a Joshua tree. His head lolled back against the trunk, and he looked at the branches raising up to the sky in supplication. To whom, really? No one would hear – or, rather, no one cared. You might be a prophet in the desert… but if you were a tree or a devil, if you were a son, _no one_ would care. Unless, perhaps, to toy with you some more, out of sadistic pleasure. A bird was looking down at him from its perch higher up on the tree. It was so white it almost blinded him.

His blinks slowed down, down until his eyes slid shut for good after a while. Why fight it anyway, eh? Why fight. Something poked him in the arm a few times, but he ignored it; then he thought the bird’s chirping grew more distant as though it was flying away. Flying, hah.

 

He woke up to tremendous pain, shooting down his every nerve, radiating from sensitive new flesh. He tried to get away from it but something – someone? – was keeping him pinned down. More pain, more blind struggles, until finally he managed to peel open his crusty eyes and, and. He closed them again, and stopped trying to get away. He tried not to take pride in some broken noses and split lips he’d just seen.

“Murderer,” he heard. “Fratricide! Monster.” He wondered how he hadn’t known what they were doing, now he’d seen it. It seemed obvious, now. The hammering sound, the metallic tang in the air, on his tongue. The feeling of wings awkwardly stretched out, of iron being driven through one “Matricide! No, worse than that!” Good thing Joshua trees had plenty of branches, he idly thought. He had more limbs to nail down than his half-brother, after all. “Want to see how much lower you can get, Prince of Lies? Father is ashamed of you.” There was a horrible sound and a searing pain and his wing spasmed and tore a bit around the nail. Broken bone, he knew. And no one to fold it back in place, no one to wrap it carefully, no one. No one.

_Hello darkness my old friend_ , he thought. _Hello darkness._

 

“What did you _do_?” There was power in that voice, and that power dragged him out of unconsciousness. Still not dead then. Still not in hell. “In the name of all that is holy, _what did you do?_ ”

Hi feathers felt… tacky. Covered in something like – yep, drying blood. But why so much pain? Why did it have to go on? He wanted back, back into the darkness. Please.

“Hello, Sam. Sorry about that little group of hooligans, but we’re going to deal with them. Miriam is reading them the riot act and her son is – Sam?” The sun beat a little less on is face, and he slitted one eye open. “I can’t understand you, Sam.”

“Fff…?”

“Yes, it’s me. Good old Raph, yeah? Just like when we were kids and you kept doing stupid shit and got hurt, remember?” Something was going through a wing. He might have cried out. “Yeah, I know. I know it hurts. Just have to clean and bandage it now, yes? Hey, Sam? Stay with me. Sam. Sam?”

“Not…”

“Not what? That’s it, keep your eyes open for me. We’ll patch you up, take you back home and… no. No, don’t close your eyes. Sam.”

“Not…” His eyes were dry, so dry. His eyelids felt like sandpaper as they fell shut again. Sand. Desert, yes. Lucifer, that was his name. What was home? Not Samael. Not ashes, ashes everywhere. Neon lights? Wind in his hair. Speed. The smell of car exhaust. A piano, blond hair and

 

“Oh father, they really did a number on him,” he heard.

“They did.” A pause. “Why did they choose to do this? Now they have to face his wrath.” What were the voices talking about? Who was ‘they’ and ‘his’ and ‘him’ and…

“Well. That’s what our brother wanted, is it not? A choice, even if it means dealing with consequences. They followed his example.” Brother? Everything was hazy.

“They didn’t understand his example.”

“No, they didn’t. Let’s let him rest and keep watch, for now.” The voices were low. Shuffling steps, a bird trilling an evening song, a gentle, soothing breeze.

Then nothing agai

 

There was something soft on his skin. He weighed nothing, he couldn’t even feel a mattress under him. _Maybe I fell asleep on a cloud._ His mind wandered. There was… not exactly pain, but. Discomfort, unease. Something not belonging. Was it him? Or part of him? He tried to lift an arm and rub his face, but then something else moved that was him and not-him. Not his arm, but – oh. Those. He’d forgotten. This time, he managed to move his hand to his face. It was uneven, rough… he opened his eyes from under his palm. Ah. Here was the memory of the sunburns, the blisters, the peeling skin, now. Of his cracked lips, his parched throat. He could feel nothing but those now he’d remembered them. He looked around once he’d adjusted to the light, and… the light. That light. What was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here. He was _banned_ from here. What was happening? What had dear old dad planned for him again? Revenge for Uriel? For mum? Taking it out on his son, scapegoat (hah) that he was, rather than facing his own shortcomings and failures… father’s hand all over again.

Right. So maybe he should get up and since he was here, find him, ask for – demand – an explanation. And get one, for once. He rolled to his side and pain shot down his every nerve. He clenched his teeth and swallowed a scream. He wouldn’t give anyone the pleasure to – damn. There was a bird watching him. Hopefully no one was looking through its beady eyes like someone he knew was wont to do. He tried to push away from the not-bed he was lying on, he tried to half-sit up, but then he heard voices.

“The human woman knows too much.”

“Well, whose fault is that?”

“I don’t know why father hasn’t got rid of Samael yet.”

“Do you think Raphael will be punished for bringing him back up here?”

“Nah. But maybe _we_ can get a reward.”

“A reward? How so?” Yes indeed, how so? He didn’t recognize the voices, but then again it had been so long…

“Well, shouldn’t we keep our existence hidden from humans? As soon as he’s healed, he’s going back to her; Raphael seemed pretty sure of that.”

“Yeah, he’s been taking an interest in our brother’s life lately.”

“He has, the weirdo. Anyway, he probably won’t be able to keep the truth from her for very long.”

“That can’t happen! We have to stop him.” It definitely was a strange conversation to hold at his door, so to speak. But dread started to grow in his stomach, going up and up and threatening to choke him.

“Oh, I have a better idea than that.” There was an expectant silence, and Lucifer’s breath stopped. “We let him tell her, and then she has an accident. We let him watch and realize he’s the cause.”

“How is that punishing him?”

“Have you still not understood? It’s worse than what our kin did earlier. We could even get the child at the same time, she probably knows more than her mother already. It’s psychological torture, and he’d go back to hell by himself. Two birds with one stone!”

That was it. He’d heard enough. He had to escape, and go straight to hell, and – he knew it. He’d always known, and he should never have let himself get close to her once he’d realised she was special – as he had in the first few minutes of their acquaintance, really. He should never have come back from Vegas, he should never had gone back on cases with her after discovering she made him vulnerable. Uriel going after her, his mother, the poisoning – it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been there. His brother wouldn’t have caused that car crash, his mother wouldn’t have tried to blow her up, Carlisle would have run away while she’d have tried to save the two kids and _not been poisoned_.

She’d be safe. Safe and happy, and her daughter would be too, and… he managed to slide down to the floor without crying out, and looked around. The damn bird was still staring. He’d crawl if he had to, but he’d manage to get to the Edge, and then… If it was the last thing he could do for her, he’d do it. Gladly. It was worth it.

She was worth it.

 

It was a long fall. He knew it was; it wasn’t his first, after all. He felt what was left of his trousers start to catch fire, his feathers ignite, his more human face disappear when the pain became too much and he couldn’t keep it up. What was the point, anyway?

He closed his eyes, felt his already scarred skin burn ever more. What was worse, he mused; knowing what to expect, knowing how it was only going to get more painful, or not knowing how it would end, like the first time? Being made to fall or choosing it, with full knowledge of what it meant? Ah, why was she not here? At least he’d have death to hope for, death to send him quickly to his final destination, the only place where he was meant to be; at least he’d get to hell quickly and he wouldn’t have to go through… through this. Again.

But that’s not how his life worked, ever; right? Not for him.

The ocean slammed into him and he lost consciousness for a while. He welcomed the relief.

 

The sound of sand sliding on sand dragged him out of where his mind was hiding. He opened his eyes. He was on the shore, right where the ocean was slowly inching up the beach. The waves were going up, up; he stayed there for a while, feeling the water gnaw on his feet, his ankles, his thighs. The salt made his open, cracked skin even more painful. He didn’t crawl away. He embraced it.

But he wasn’t where he should be. He’d aimed for hell. Why wasn’t he there? Why this beach, of all places? He started scratching at the sand. Maybe it was right here. Maybe it was just under. If only he could dig a little, just a little, he’d find it; he’d fall right through and into his world-sized grave, he’d have all of eternity to remember all he’d done. But at least, at least it would have been for her. He thought there was a shout a bit further up the beach. But who would be there? It was too early for people anyway – or they were just drunk and drugged people, and wouldn’t remember him.

He just had to get through the fine sand. It was getting everywhere; into his every open sore, into his eyes, maybe even into his lungs. His every breath was painful, but breathing was just habit. He didn’t need to, did he? And yet not breathing burned, too. Everything was wrong. Everything hurt. He didn’t care, he couldn’t stay here. The hole was just big enough for his fist. He had to dig on, he had to dig thro –

“You idiot.” A hand clamped on his biceps, pulled him away from the waves, from his hole back to hell. He had to get back, he had to go on. “Don’t you dare.” He was manhandled on his back, a weight on his chest keeping him still and blinking up at a colourless, early morning sky. Why were there no colours? His hand was red. It had been red in the grey sand, before he’d been pulled away. Bones ground against each other. So many things were wrong. He’d made everything wrong. Well, not everything. He’d done right by her, hadn’t he? He just had to leave this plane and – “I swear to Father, if you don’t stop moving I’ll tie you up, burns or no burns.” He’d close his eyes, wait for his brother to go away. “I’m putting you on your side, all right? Less surface. Sand must be helli – it must be painful on your skin.”

He’d been looking at a grey sky, now it was a grey ocean. Grey, grey, grey. Nothing but grey. “Let me get back to hell.” It didn’t sound like him, more like a life-long heavy smoker who’d swallowed a cheese grater.

“Don’t be stupid. You hate it there.” Fine. _Fine_. He’d dig, dig until he got there. “No, don’t. Not now,” Raphael said; and did it make sense? Why not now?

“Perfect time,” he rasped. Perfect time to go to hell.

“I wasn’t talking to – nevermind. Sa – brother, think for a minute. Who’s going to keep an eye on the miracle and her child if you leave? Their very nature puts them at risk, you know that.”

What was he on about? At risk? _He_ was the biggest risk, and he was trying to remedy this. “Maze.” _Now let me go, let me go back to hell, I never should have left, I never should –_

“Are you insane? You’re leaving a demon on Earth, without your supervision? Have you lost your mind?”

“She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She’s a demon, _your_ demon. She’s your responsibility!” He thought his brother was glancing at times behind him, at something further away. Maybe checking that there were no humans to see his wings spread in anger and righteous fury. Always angry at him. Even Amenadiel was always angry at him, even Maze.

“Best bodyguard for the Detective and…” he coughed. There was a spot of bright colour now on the grey sand in front of his face. He tasted iron in his mouth. “And the spawn.”

“You’re a coward and an idiot. And you know we can’t let a demon walk around freely.”

Rage obliterated everything at that moment. The pain, the despair, the need to escape – there was only rage. He might be a disfigured, scarred, burned husk but he still had his will, he still had fire inside of him – the fire of his fall and the fire of his hate, hate at the veiled threats, hate at the family that all used and abused him, at a fate that laughed at him, at himself and all his mistakes and all his sins. Sand melted under his palm, forming a smooth glass handle, then a delicate and sharp obsidian blade. His fingers curled around it, and he braced himself. He’d only get one chance, one chance to strike and remove the threat. When Raphael got down on one knee with a little phial in his hand, he threw himself at his brother with everything he had.

He might have cried out, he wasn’t sure. He heard someone cry out, at any rate. There was pain, mostly, and bright red on the sand, and then darkness, only darkness.

He didn’t feel it when the knife was pried from his nerveless fingers.

 

“You stubborn, stubborn idiot,” Raphael said as he handed Mazikeen the blade. She hid it somewhere on her person, and then looked at Chloe Decker, who still hadn’t moved.

“You all right?” A nod, although she looked too shaken to say anything yet.

“How did you know to come here?” he asked.

The demon turned to Raphael again. “I saw a ball of fire falling from…” She made a grimace as she pointed at the cloudless sky. “So I drove us here.”

“You _dragged_ me here, you mean. I didn’t believe… I didn’t believe we’d find him again; I thought this time…” The human woman swiped her fingertips under her eyes. “We found his car, his wallet, his phone in a dumpster behind the hospital; hell, even his clothes in the desert over the last week. Some blood. It didn’t look good.”

Sam’s demon smiled at the human, then turned her gaze to him. The smile had disappeared. “Was your plan actually to get him to faint? Did you really think threatening me a clever move?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it? Since suggesting he stayed for Ms Decker here didn’t do the trick. Had to find something else.”

“Of course it didn’t. He thinks he’s protecting Trixie and me by leaving us.” She knelt by his brother’s head, looking up at him and hand hovering over his face as if to ask permission. He nodded, and she brushed a fingertip over his brow, his temple. “Oh, Lucifer,” she whispered.

The detective was made of stronger stuff than he’d first believed. She looked shaky and pale, sure, but she was still there, she was not running away screaming and losing her mind. She was even touching him, soothing him like she’d probably done to her child countless times – like the children of God did with each other, whenever one was hurt or felt sad. Like their own Mother had, back when they’d all been very young and this world still only a spark in Father’s eye.

He hadn’t understood Samael’s stubborn will and almost frightening amount of, of affection, but now that he’d started watching her… It wasn’t what their Father had wanted from them, all these aeons ago. It wasn’t a generic, bland, aimless love for all of mankind, no; it was a fiery, exclusive thing that had burned through his brother and consumed him, but a love that fueled him and lit his world too. All while living among mankind, and sharing their lives, and knowing them and loving them better than any of the first children of God ever did. Samael, always blazing his own path forward – and opening it for them all too, Raphael suspected. He was the star that led them all, in a way; even if some in the family chose to burn a path of hate after all.

And the human woman… she kept bringing him back, too. Back to reality, back to earth, back to human life’s pains and joys. Look at him now, look at how he’d changed – no, not changed, exactly. More… bloomed? Like things dormant had finally come alive, like spring and green new things. He wondered if he’d know this one day. He wondered if he wanted to, if he could take it – the highs and the lows. Frankly, he doubted it.

“He left me a voicemail, then nothing,” she went on. “I filed a missing person report, we started looking, and now…” Chloe Decker kept stroking Sam’s face. “Is that what you wanted to tell me two weeks ago? Is that what you hid for so long?”

“So what happened?” Mazikeen looked ready to take on angels and avenge his brother. “The wings are new. I don’t think he had them back before now. He definitely didn’t have them when you got poisoned, too.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

The second fall had undone Raphael’s hard work in heaven. The human woman clearly wanted to touch Sam’s feathers, but they were caked in fresh blood and ash and one wing was still visibly broken. She gave him compassion, he realized. She gave him care and affection. She was afraid of hurting him.

Mazikeen sighed. “Not my story to tell. You’ll have to ask him.”

“Not quite yet though. My brother is not in good shape. We got to him in time thanks to a, er, a vision I had, but…” The human – his beloved human detective – raised her eyebrows, waiting for the explanation. “Well. I dreamed… We learned a small group of us wanted to get back at him for what happened to Uriel and our Mother, and so we came down here to warn him, except they’d already got to him when we found them. I flew him back to heaven to get him back on his feet but he escaped.”

“Looks more like you guys threw him out. Again.”

“Nah. I think he panicked when he woke up, and he may have overheard things. And you can touch them, you know. It’s soothing to us.”

“What things?” Chloe Decker finally moved on to his wings, not really caring they were still a bloody mess. She skirted the more obvious wounds and started combing the feathers back into place. It seemed soothing to her, too. “Hm. I imagine he couldn’t use them?”

“Not in that state, no. I think he was aiming for hell.”

“Why? He doesn’t want to ever go back there, unless…” Maze waved at Chloe.

“Why not aim for here?”

“Well, when you Fall from heaven it’s not like when you fly, and fly he could not. Besides…”

“It’s about her, isn’t it? Only reason he’d go to hell is for you, Chloe.”

“Well I – ”

“Only reason you’re still alive today too, miracle or not.”

“Right. Okay. Right. That’s it. Tell me. Tell me now, I’m fed up with these hints I can’t understand.” She glared at Raphael. “Can you take him back up?”

“Not a good idea. I think what was said near his bed was said on purpose.”

“Which means more people you can’t trust, then. Fine.” Mazikeen pursed her lips for a minute. “Right. Let’s take him to Linda’s condo. None of your people knows about _her_ , right?”

“No.”

“Good. Chloe, do you have something to cover him with in your car?”

“I have a picnic blanket and a couple beach towels in the trunk. I’ll go fetch them.” She narrowed her eyes at them. “And I swear I’ll get those answers,” she added before leaving.

“Now you. Hide those wings, you’re going with us in the car.”

“I can fly to – ”

“No you can’t. What if you’re seen? You’re not invisible. You’re either walking or coming in the car with us and with Lucifer.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He looked to the parking lot. “She likes him, doesn’t she? She won’t hurt him, right?”

“Of course she will, just like he hurt her. She’s human, she’ll grow old and die and it’ll break him. But he’s fixated on her.”

“And you’re not.”

“Humans grow on you. Like fungus, as they say.”

He knelt to put his palm on his brother’s forehead. He’d slipped into sleep. Good, he needed it. “Sam’s different.”

“Don’t call him that. And this place… it changes you. These people.” They watched Chloe Decker come back, carrying a large beach bag. “Has he changed, really? How was he, before? I only knew him after you people threw him out.”

That was a good question, but he didn’t know how to explain it to her. It had taken him, and sadly too few of their brothers and sisters, quite a while to realize Samael had been restless for a long time before his Fall, and that they’d all missed the warning signs. They’d all been unhappy to see the rift between their parents grow, but Sam…

“I brought everything. Hey, he’s shivering. Do you people go into shock? It’s not that cold.”

They wrapped him in the blanket, careful not to jostle the wings as they secured them against his back or to let the fabric rub too much on his skin; then they threw a towel around his shoulders. He mumbled something, tossed his head when Raphael gently lifted him into his arms, but he settled down again when Chloe Decker squeezed the fingers peeking through a fold of the blanket.

“I’ll drive,” she said.

“Fine. I’ll call Linda to explain and then Amenadiel. He should join us.”

“All right.”

Raphael settled at the back, Sam’s head in his lap. Not Sam’s head – Lucifer’s head. Hairless and scarred and how could things have gone so badly for all of them – a family torn apart, bitterness and rejection and so much pain, everywhere. Azrael, for one, had never been the same since.

“Raph? Tha’ you…?” he rasped.

“It’s me, Sa – brother. It’s me. You’ll be all right now. Just try to rest, yes? You’ll be fine, S – _Lucifer_.”

Oh Father. It would take time to get used to it all, but he would. He would.

 

Linda opened the door as soon as Maze called her name from outside. She still walked slowly, cautiously; but she looked so much better than when Chloe had first seen her, tiny and moving gingerly, as immobile as possible.

“Hey. Sorry to bother you with this, but…”

“It’s fine.” She leaned against the doorjamb and Raphael nodded at her as he went through after Maze, Lucifer stumbling between them as they mostly carried him to another room. He probably couldn’t see much what with the blanket half over his head to hide his face, but Maze herself was clearly familiar with the place. “So now you know.”

Chloe blinked. “I know wha – ah. Yes. Wow, yes, it’s only been an hour and I’ve already forgotten I didn’t know before.”

“Didn’t know, really?”

“Didn’t want to know, maybe.” Chloe closed the door behind her and followed Linda to her kitchen. “Maze called his brother – I mean, Amenadiel. I’m sorry we’re hijacking your apartment, Raphael over there said some of their siblings had it in for Lucifer and we thought they would try Lux or maybe my place, your office or the precinct; but probably not here.” She paused. “And you’re still recovering from what happened to you.”

“Wise move. And I already got my freakout done and over with months ago. It’s my choice to be involved in all this, unhinged goddess of creation or not. Coffee?”

“Hm, yeah. We should probably order some food in, too.”

There was a thump and raised voices from behind the wall, and then after a few more moments Maze and Raphael joined them.

“He’s… not entirely in the here and now, we can’t get near him at the moment. Have to wait until he calms down.” Raphael put the precisely folded blanket and towels on a chair. “Nothing’s urgent, I’d rather not risk hurting him more.”

“Hey, what did you call him earlier? It wasn’t Lucifer.”

“Ah, er…”

“Oh, did you use the S-name? The one time I tried that he punched a hole through the drywall.”

Maze opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Yeah, he hates it.”

The doorbell rang and they gathered around the door, Maze with a bottle in one hand and a knife in the other. It was Amenadiel, and Dan and Trixie were with him.

Shit.

 

“¡Diablo! You are vanquished, demonio.”

Damp. Damp, cold stone under him, gritty and dirty and the grime would be getting under his nails if he still had nails. There were cries, cries of pain and despair around him, the smell of abject terror and burned flesh – not his, because his had burned long ago even if it still looked raw. It always would.

“Repent!” Harsh voice, and then fire along his not-there skin. “But you can’t, can you? ¡Satán!”

The only light, incongruously pure and white and soft, came from somewhere behind him, but he didn’t dare look. He opened his eyes to look up at who was… he coughed. Kicking him in the ribs, it seemed.

A tall man, dressed in a long red robe, was sneering down at him, holy water in one hand and a crucifix in the other. What a joke.

How had he ended up here? He should be able to get away, nothing they could do should hurt him. Nothing and no one could, but the people who had forsaken him. Humans certainly couldn’t, even Inquisitors. The man bent and stuffed a cloth in his mouth, started pouring water and – no air, there was no air, why did he need air? He was the devil, he should just get up, get away, destroy them, his chest was spasming and it made his wings twitch and pain pain pain he

 

Dan’s head jerked up at the sound of a muffled scream. “What is that?”

“The reason why Maze called me, I think. Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have brought them along!”

“Yeah, should have expected Funless Bore and Stick-In-The-Mud would become best buds ever.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, Dan; just…” There was another sound, and Chloe’s head turned in the direction of the sound. “Nothing too dangerous.”

Amenadiel made to move into the condo but Trixie beat him to it, running into the hallway and – “Lucifer!”

“No – Trixie!” Chloe ran after her, and the man Dan didn’t recognize and who’d been hovering behind Dr Martin turned on his heel and followed them.

“Did you find him?”

“He’s pretty beaten up, but it’s not like we can take him to the hospital,” Maze said. “See for yourself,” she added when Amenadiel raised his eyebrows.

“So my little girl and my ex-wife are safe, right?” No one seemed worried about them and he supposed that should be good enough for him, but…

“Go in and have a look,” Maze said.

“Is this a good idea?”

Dan left them there, glaring at each other at the door, and got the scare of his life.

The room was a disaster, one wall lacerated almost to the ceiling, the bed a mess, a window pane broken, blood, and. And there, on the floor, was the body of someone who shouldn’t even be alive – almost skinless, a jumble of scars and sinews and red, bloody muscle glistening with blood, with two reddish embers glowing from behind half-closed eyelids. Finally, Dan felt brave enough to acknowledge the two wings, one hanging limp and obviously broken while the other slashed through the air from time to time. It caught a pillow and cut it neatly to ribbons, and yet Trixie had decided she should sit, cross-legged and serene, next to the creature’s head; what must have been part of a comforter loosely held in her hand. The thing was still gasping as if it had almost choked to death seconds before.

“You’re hurt,” she said.

Dan tried to go get her away from the not-corpse but inhuman strength kept him in place, a vice around his middle. “Trix, no,” he whispered.

“He won’t hurt her.”

“Who are you? How could you know? Have you seen what it just did to this room?”

The man extended his free hand. It had a few cuts on it. “I’m Raphael. You already know two of my brothers.”

Dan looked back at the creature. The height and build were right, but… that? Lucifer Morningstar? It looked like – oh damn. Oh fuck. Oh – “sit down and breathe, Daniel.”

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” Someone pushed his head between his knees, but he fought against it. He was fine, he was fine. Fuck. Trixie was still there, and she’d taken a red red hand in hers and was stroking the palm. The – the – Lucifer, damn, Lucifer _the_ Lucifer was calming down, and he could feel everyone behind him breathe a little easier.

“Your daughter is a miracle too, I think,” Amenadiel said.

“A miracle _too_?” All of a sudden, Dan realized the low keening sound he’d been hearing before had stopped.

And, from the fingers that his little monkey was cradling oh so gently, a pink, healthy skin appeared and grew back along the hand, the arm; little by little creeping down the entire body.

It _was_ Lucifer. Beaten up, bruised, bloodied, charred, but Lucifer. Albeit _ohfucknaked_ , why hadn’t he realized it before!?

“God.”

“I don’t know it that’s the least or the most accurate thing I’ve ever heard from you,” Maze said. Dr Martin made an amused sound.

“Chloe. Chloe, we shouldn’t let Trix – ”

“Look.”

Their daughter, their brave and wonderful and much loved daughter, was petting the devil’s hair and crooning a soft, low tune and carefully, softly, touching the broken wing to brush the sand that was still caught in the feathers. And the devil let her.

“You’re hurt, Lucifer.” She got on her knees and started rearranging the wing, folding it back into place and setting the bone. He was shivering and breathing harshly, but nothing else. He was tame under her little hands, like he wouldn’t even dream of biting tiny fingers off like the wounded animal he was. “I remember when you showed me how to do that. Now I’m going to wrap it just like you said.” She took the sheet hanging from the bed, finished the tearing he’d started earlier, and got down to it.

First, she urged him to sit up against the bed, helped him a little when it seemed he didn’t have the strength, calming him down when his brothers made to come into the room to help. The devil would only let his little girl help, and Dan felt both the proudest and most terrified father on earth. Maybe more than just earth, really, because – well, devil.

He slammed the door shut on that direction and focused his attention on Trixie, who was keeping his wing – his wing, oh my god damn shit god was his father hell no fuck no don’t think about that – his _perfectly normal_ wing flat against his back, running her fingers along the edge to check the bone was properly aligned, then giving him one end of the makeshift bandage to hold as she started wrapping the fabric around him; over the shoulder and under the other arm and avoiding where someone had… stabbed him? Shot him?

“Some of our siblings tried to nail him to a Joshua tree,” Raphael whispered.

Nail him? Hel – Go – fuck. “That’s sick. Well, I mean, he’s – maybe he deserves it?” Several pairs of eyes turned to glare at him. “I mean, he’s the devil?” The point of a knife was suddenly digging into his kidney. “I, uh.”

“You know he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Chloe… that’s our daughter! Aren’t you a little bit afraid, at least?”

“Are you?”

“I think… I think I should be.”

“But are you?”

He paused. “No, not really.” The knife left his back. He had to admit it: he wasn’t. Not when the Prince of Darkness had bunched a piece of torn sheet over his lap to spare his baby girl’s eyes, not when Satan was a dork and a jerk and would die for Chloe and – “hey. Did he actually die for you?”

“Let’s focus on the here and now first, all right?” Dr Martin was leaning more and more on Maze. “Food, murderous angels, and sitting down for me.” She shuffled back to the kitchen with –

“So are you, what. Not a, an angel?”

“Don’t be an idiot. And do not ever threaten any of the people here or I’ll cut you. I promise you won’t find every bit I’ll carve off of you when I’m done.”

Maze helped Linda back to the kitchen and Lucifer’s brothers followed them, and Dan turned back to his daughter. She had just finished securing the wing to his body, and was holding Lucifer mostly up. He looked exhausted, listing to the side and unable to keep his eyes open, only humming vaguely in answer when she talked to him.

“Mommy,” she said, “can you help me?”

Together, Chloe and their daughter, their baby, helped him to the bed and found some soft blankets in a closet to throw over him. He shivered and tried to sit up again when he saw who was tucking him in, fighting the covers so weakly Trixie easily caught his wrist and pinned it to the bed, forcing him to lie back on his side.

“We’re safe,” she said. “Daddy is here and Maze and your nice brothers.”

“But…”

Who would have thought he’d ever feel compassion for the devil? Who would have thought he’d feel the need to, at last, step into the room and kneel by the bed and say, “that’s right, Lucifer. We’re here. You know we won’t let anything happen to Chloe and our little monkey, yeah? Or to you. I promise.” Brown eyes blinked at him. “Douche’s honor.” They finally closed and didn’t open again, and he fell asleep almost immediately.

Maybe that was what the devil had always needed, Dan mused. Compassion, and safety, and friends.

“Thank you,” Chloe said.

“Yes, daddy. Thank you.”

 

“He’s asleep,” Chloe said when they joined the others around the pile of takeaway menus.

“That’s good,” Raphael was crinkling his nose at a Korean-Ethiopian fusion takeaway menu as he spoke. “Not much else we can do now. Most of our siblings were shocked at what happened. I think those who attacked him will soon be found and, ah, justice, er. Will be done. They made a choice, and therefore will face consequences; like Lucifer did so long ago. I’m sure Father will find a proper punishment.” It didn’t sound very reassuring to Chloe, but she let it go. She was a human cop, not a celestial one. “He should heal quickly, even in this state.”

“Hem.”

“What?”

“Amenadiel means ‘no, he won’t.’”

“Well, I know he was pretty beaten up and the wings took their toll on him but…”

“No, it’s not that.” Linda turned to Trix. “We have a few things to talk about that will be boring adult stuff. Do you want to go watch some TV?”

“I’m a big girl. I can stay.”

“Or we can…” Maze pursed her lips. “We could go to Lux for clothes so Danny boy doesn’t end up needing more therapy than he already does, and splash in Lucifer’s pool while we’re at it? Then back for food with you guys.”

“Hey!” Dan scowled, but Trixie jumped up at the suggestion. As for Maze, she didn’t look as enthused by her own idea and kept glancing at Linda.

“Ah, I’ll go. If that’s all right with Chloe, of course,” Amenadiel said. “So you can stay here.”

“And so you can escape this talk.”

“Well, one stone and all that, Maze.”

“Ah, it’s fine. What do you say, monkey? Want to have fun in Lucifer’s little pool?” Trixie nodded frantically, and Chloe handed Amenadiel her car keys. “Take my car; there’s a beach bag in the trunk with Trixie’s bathing suit. Don’t scratch the paint.”

After he’d left, Trixie on his back marveling at the height from where she could see the world, Chloe turned to Maze and Linda again. “So?”

Maze looked away, both wistful and a bit lost. “He’s changed since you met. At first, I hated you for it. I was losing the Lucifer I knew, and myself too.” Linda’s hand covered hers. “But around you, he’s different. He can be hurt, he can be killed. I’m pretty sure his healing is affected too.”

“I should have taken the risk to get him back to heaven,” Raphael said.

“He probably feels much safer here than up there, especially with your father there,” Linda said.

“And Amenadiel couldn’t follow you to help. Lucifer’s better off here.”

“Can we go back to what you said? That I make him… vulnerable?” That actually explained a lot. “But shouldn’t he avoid me then?”

“Chloe, he’s been carrying a torch since day one. I remember his face when he was with you at the hospital! I don’t think he cares about the risk.”

Maybe Dan was right, but she had a hard time believing he’d been that into her back then. Definitely wanted to have sex with her, though. He’d been pretty upfront about that.

“Our brother has indeed become more than he was.” Raphael picked one of the menus off the table. “What is Hawaiian pizza?”

“Don’t. Just – don’t.”

 

A couple hours afterwards, they’d all eaten and were in several states of drowsiness around Linda’s condo. Trixie, her hair still damp, was properly asleep all curled up in an armchair, two sons of god – hah – were absolutely not snoring on the couch, and Dan was talking quietly with Linda who was lying on a comfy-looking recliner.

He probably needed an on-the-fly session more than her, Chloe thought. After all, she’d always suspected Lucifer was way more than what little she knew about him. She looked at the darkening sky outside. They’d probably have to tell Ella. It would be too hard not to, she’d quickly see they were hiding something from her. Who knew how she’d take it?

Maze came back from the kitchen with a tray – so domestic. She never did this kind of things at home, but since Linda had been hurt… And here was another mystery she’d have to ask about. “Thank you,” she said when Maze handed her coffee – of course, coffee with a twist, but both the caffeine and the alcohol were welcome.

“Tea, coffee, whiskey,” she said pointing at the tray. “Help yourself, I’m going to watch over Lucifer.” She sent a contemptuous look at the two brothers on the couch and stalked away.

“Maybe I should leave.”

“Why?” Linda raised her eyebrows expectantly, and Chloe felt uncomfortably like she was trying to analyze her or something. She probably was, to be fair.

“Well, I’m a danger to him. That’s not good.”

“He knows it and yet chooses to be around you. I don’t think he cares.”

“But he should, Dan!”

“It’s his choice. He’s pretty big on making your own choices, you know. Can you get me the tea?” Chloe held out a mug for Linda. “Just go check on him, Chloe. We all know you want to.”

She was right. Why fight it? Dan smiled at her, a little wistful and yet supportive, and she went to his room.

Maze was watching him sleep, the glass knife he’d made on the beach in her hand. She nodded at Chloe when she settled next to her against the wall. “He’s happier when you’re around. You make him want to be better, even if he’s an idiot about it most of the time. You shouldn’t leave if you want to stay.”

“Did you just hear us?”

“My hearing’s pretty good.”

“I bet it is.”

His chest was slowly expanding and contracting under the blanket, one wing haphazardly thrown back and half hanging off the bed and the other barely visible under the bandages. What skin they could see was a healthy pink, and his hair was a curly mess.

After a while Maze seemed to see something, and after stashing the knife in her pants – how did she do that? – went to sit on the bed after signaling to Chloe to keep quiet. He was facing the window, and he wouldn’t see her. What was Maze doing?

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Msleep.”

“No you’re not.”

“Mazie…”

“Don’t whine, you’re not a child.”

“Mh… Oh!” He stiffened and started to sit up but she put a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. “Let me – where is this? What…?” He sounded out of breath.

“We’re at Linda’s.”

“Oh.” He laid back down, winced when he started to roll on his back and turned back on his side. “And ouch. What happened? I feel horrible.” He sounded horrible, too.

“What do you remember?”

“Don’t much like this line of questioning.”

“Lucifer.”

He sighed. “Let me think.” His hale wing fluttered a little, and Chloe fought the urge to go and touch it. She still had the soothing memory of his feathers between her fingers. “The hospital. Linda? Linda, how – ”

“She’s fine. It was two weeks ago. What else?”

“Calling the Detective… then nothing? Ah… no, the desert. Maze!” He struggled again and again, twisting his neck and one wing flapping; but she kept him down.

“Yes. They’re back.”

“But…”

“I know. What else?”

“I don’t know. It’s all…”

“It’s important, Lucifer.”

There was a raspy sound as he rubbed his face. “I remember… pain? Ah, Maze, pain! And… falling? Again? I’m mixing it all up, what is – why am I thinking of Raphael? Is he around? And someone – Maze, they wanted to kill you and the Detective and – ”

“Don’t move. It’s fine. Everyone’s safe. You’re the only one who got hurt, because you’re a stubborn idiot.”

“What…”

“Your brother took you up to heaven to heal you and you decided the best thing to do was to leave while your wing was broken.”

He was silent for a while. “So I fell. Again.”

“You did.”

“But I’m…” He waved his hand in front of his face. “I don’t look very, well, devilish right now.”

“You know what? Trixie did that.”

“What?”

“We found you on the beach, Chloe and I. You were mumbling about how we were in danger and getting ready to attack Raphael.”

“Has she… has she seen me then?” He sounded defeated.

“Yes.”

“I should have gone back to hell.”

“That was your intention. Going back to hell and leaving me here. You bastard!” The knife reappeared, suddenly embedded in the mattress by his side.

“But you have the Detective and the spawn and the good doctor. You don’t need me, I’m only bollocksing things up here.” He took a moment to catch his breath. “You should be entirely free of me, all of you. I’ve only brought you hurt. I’m sorry, Maze; I didn’t see you were changing, I didn’t… I know I swore I’d never leave you, but all I’m doing is… we fought and talked over this, Maze. But I’ll always be… me.”

She threw her hands up, but her voice sounded a bit choked too. “How can you have been in therapy for so long and still – I blame your mother. I’m glad you sent that bitch away, even if you should have done that months earlier. Like I told you to again and again.” He didn’t answer, only curling a little around himself. “Chloe should know.”

“She’d know who you are too. How do you think she’ll react to having a demon sleeping next to her spawn?”

“Don’t tell me this is for me. And she already knows that, are you even listening? She saw you fall from the sky, she saw your wings and your face. I’m talking about her being a miracle.” Chloe’s heart stuttered. She’d heard that word again and again today, and still had no clue what it meant. “She should know.”

“I don’t want her to know she’s my father’s pawn.”

“Why would she be?”

“Yeah, why would I be?”

He jerked at the sound of her voice. “So I’ve cocked it all up again, haven’t I.” His eyes were wide and his breaths wheezing when he watched her walking around the foot of the bed to sit on the floor. “I’m sorry, Detective. I thought I could make it all better for everyone. I thought I could get Amenadiel his wings back and get revenge on my parents and give you back your freedom, I thought Maze would be happier if I left, I thought…”

“What’s this talk about a miracle?”

“Your parents couldn’t conceive, Amenadiel blessed your mother, _their_ mother used everything she could to manipulate everyone.” Maze shrugged. “Mama goddess was just a class A bitter, vengeful, poisonous bitch.”

“Mazikeen, please. I sent her away for good, she won’t be back.”

Well, she was his mother, still. And Chloe knew Lucifer would do anything for the smallest hint of anything resembling affection. She remembered spending hours listening to his lovers, remembered what Dan had told her afterwards. How he’d put all his hopes on the stalker, too. “Why the freakout about my conception, then?”

“Detective! Don’t you understand, my father put you in my path, you’re not free, you’re…” He stopped to cough a little.

“What’s wrong, Lucifer?”

He stared at her, disbelief on his face. “What is wrong? Everything is wrong! He made you – ”

“I’m pretty sure my parents made me.”

“ – and he made you go through things you shouldn’t have had to go through and then he forced us together and – he’s manipulated you and I don’t know why and…”

A bid chirped outside. It looked very much like the one they’d found months ago, hurt and terrified, on her back porch. It hopped a bit on the windowsill, then flew through the broken window pane to land next to Lucifer’s head.

“Is that…”

“It is, Detective.”

He ran a careful finger under the bird’s neck, and it cooed happily for a moment, then suddenly reared back its head and stabbed his palm with its beak.

“What – ”

“Look, Chloe.” Maze didn’t seem worried.

The bird drank the drop of blood, and its feathers went from white with a black tip to all white, the purest white she’d ever seen, so white it almost emitted light. It poked at the bandages around his chest and chirped even harder when Trixie walked into the room, going to perch on her shoulder.

“Hello, bird. So you think we should undo this?”

It hopped on her shoulder and while she whispered nonsensical words at it, Chloe sat next to Lucifer and unwrapped the bandages with Maze’s help. In moments, Lucifer was unfurling his wing, unbroken and unhurt. She smiled when it curled a little around her, as if it wanted to test her reaction; and so she touched his face, let her forehead touch his. Smiled at him, and almost cried with relief when he smiled back at her, a bit surprised still.

His eyes went back to the bird, which had relocated to Trixie’s finger. “What are you?” It flittered to Chloe’s hand then and trilled softly, looking straight at Lucifer from its perch. It opened its wings and started radiating a gentle light, and as if in answer Lucifer’s opened too and a soft glow began to illuminate the room. “Who are you, little bird?”

It started singing then, like a little bird-shaped star rejoicing in life and lifting the hearts of everyone around it. There was a purpose, and the purpose was joy, Chloe thought. Her eyes met Lucifer’s, her fingers closed around Trixie’s, Dan’s hand settled on her shoulder. Family, friends. Her heart felt big, so big. So full.

“Oh Father,” Raphael said from the door. “ _Aisling_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: nothing much, but a premature child dying only a few days after birth is mentioned. Happens about 15 years before the story is set, and well – it’s a show about the devil, and unless you’ve been Azrael’s Blade-d, you don’t really die-die!  
> This was inspired by, of course, my prompt, but also a real tiny grave for a real baby Aisling I saw one day, with the quote from Job 38:7 which is mentioned in the fic. I looked it up and found this verse: (Or who laid its [the earth’s] cornerstone) when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy. It started the fic-thinking engines, and then I got ElenaCee’s gorgeous pic as a prompt, et voilà :-)  
> I hope the real baby Aisling is happily flitting around heaven with cherub wings today.


End file.
